329. ‘O giorno, o hora, o ultimo momento,’

O day, O hour, O ultimate moment,

O stars conspiring to impoverish me!

O loyal gaze, what did you wish to tell me,

as I departed, never to be content?

Now I know my hurt, now I feel it:

who hoped (ah, hope weak and vain)

to lose a part, not all, in departing:

what hopes are blown away by the wind!

Already heaven had willed the opposite,

to quench the kindly light that gave me life,

and it was written in her sweet bitter look:

but a veil was placed before my eyes,

that made me fail to see what I had seen,

so that my life was suddenly made sad.